


The Switch

by anonymousorly



Series: Connections are more than accurate passes [7]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: First Meetings, Halftime sex, Juventus Turin, M/M, Wall Sex, cristiano fucks paulo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousorly/pseuds/anonymousorly
Summary: When Cristiano meets the squad, he's nice and Paulo likes him. They shake hands and a sinking pull submerges within his stomach, the familiar twisting dual force controlled by Leo and Neymar.





	1. Chapter 1

When Cristiano meets the squad, he's nice and Paulo likes him. _Cris_ genuinely attempts communicating with the Italians without the assisting translator, gets along with Douglas and Alex easily enough, and is incredibly handsome. They shake hands and a sinking pull submerges within Paulo’s stomach, the familiar twisting dual force controlled by Leo and Neymar. It's the first time he's felt Leo since Russia as the two remind him about their warning, muffling the pleasantries from Cris and clouding his ability to form a response.

To avoid looking stupid, he rushes out something about seeing him later at training and bolts off. The twisting pull instantly loosens and he curses them.

Cris crowds around Paulo in the locker room until his back hits the wall and their chests press against one another. “Leo's told me about you,” he tilts his head, “so I figure you’ve been told about me.”

The players watch them carefully, much quieter than usual as they dress for practice, and Paulo sees Mira staring from the corner of his eye. “Heard that you're a bit…domineering.”

Cris touches the bottom of his cheek and his vision blurs. “That make you nervous?” Cris’ other hand goes under his shirt and his breath hitches at the walking fingertips. “Do I make you nervous?”

He feels the heat of everyone's eyes and his cock decides to fucking twitch, grazing Cris’ waistband and making the man grin. “Should you?”

The tips of their noses brush as Cris leans to whisper in his ear, “No.”

Paulo gulps, forcing his eyes to stay open, and Mira’s the first one to walk out for the pitch. The two have a steady signal, bandwidth different from Leo and Neymar’s, and his departure indicates to their teammates consent of his connection’s interference.

Paulo murmurs against Cris’ jaw, “Haven't been told why you came here, though.”

Cris cups Paulo’s chin and slowly tightens his grip, nails from both hands sinking into burning flesh, growls, “To win.”


	2. Chapter 2

After the locker room interaction, Cris’ behavior unexpectedly shifts into a tame normalcy, leaving Paulo disappointed and the team puzzled. The two work well together, similarly to Gigi for Paulo except with a massive underlying tension added. Cris seemingly focuses fitting into his role, learning on-field movements and off-field routines of his teammates, syncing with Max and Marco, demonstrating strengths as expected, and treating Paulo no differently from anyone else.

He doesn't score in his first Italia match…or second or third. Halftime of Juve’s fourth finds him yanking Paulo by his front collar from the locker room and down the corridor a bit, vacant aside from some lower corporate professionals with lanyard badges passing through.

Paulo softly whimpers when their mouths collide, foreign tongue and lips moving over his unfamiliarly but it's exhilarating, the kiss slower than Neymar’s and looser than Leo's. It doesn't feel like the air’s being sucked from his lungs, Cris’ soiled hands roaming beneath his uniform, gentle touches inducing anticipation and disproving prior cautions. He wouldn't go so far as to say he's ached for this – his attention, pursuit, touch, anything, something, just anything – but he's only human and craves the man.

“He warned me, too,” Cris admits, sliding down Paulo’s bottoms until they fall freely to his ankles, “about you.”

Cris, lifting Paulo’s ass for leverage, pushes inside of him and Paulo briefly winces, thick brows creased. He claws at Cris’ shoulders and keeps balanced by tugging on the back of his jersey. “I,” his eyes shut, feels himself stretching and head swimming, “I couldn't…with Leo, I failed t-to bring… I thought I– we could–”

“It can only work as much as both ends do.” Cris’ teeth latch on his neck, Paulo moans, then demands muzzled, “Look at me.”

He does when their foreheads knock together, dark eyes piercing and intense. He had fought for Leo's connection, even got rejected, and everything from Cris has been the opposite so far – Cris approached him first, made clear his intention and willingness, then approached him again to where they are now, in the hall, accepting that he could use help. It's humble.

Cris reasons, “Connections are a two-way street, Paulo,” and rocks his hips, thrusting deeper and noting how Paulo blinks quickly to force his eyes open.

Paulo wishes he understood the mechanics of these connections. Though he may had influenced Leo, he didn't actually contribute to its manifestation; Leo decided to accept and Neymar came with him. The one with Mira naturally gravitated between them and always made sense to him, still makes the most sense now in comparison, so he never questioned its presence. Now that the disruptive force of Cris lingers, the dual pull in his stomach is constant and he wants nothing more than for it to vanish. His desire for Argentina's victory with Leo's connection is gone.

Cris growls, “Want to?” and Paulo comes, the tip of his cock sliding across Cris’ stomach enough contact to stain their jerseys. He wonders if Leo and Neymar know what's happening, not just the physical part but the psychological (they do though vaguely), as he nods and the dual pull dulls.


End file.
